I recently decided that I'm tired of looking at the URL for this site, and all of the negativitiy and dwelling in the past that it represents. (Plus, I'm fickle and wanted to try something new) Sooooooooo.....from now on all future posts can be found on my new blog:
http://inchingforward.wordpress.com/
Moving right along now- onwards and upwards. My therapist will be so proud...
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Dammit...
Argh. Almost forgot to write again. And once again, it was for no good reason, just mindlessly surfing the net and looking up stuff about all of the vacations I want to take. And the food I want to eat. And the houses I want to buy. And Diablo Cody.
Well, I'm writing now, and that's something at least. After all, I didn't pledge to write "prolifically" or even "well" every day, just to write.
It snowed here again last night- 8 inches. I swear sometimes I feel like it will never stop snowing. At first it was charming, in a 'hole-up-in-your-house-and--read-a- good-book-with-a-glass- of-wine-and some-pasta' kind of way. But it's not cute any more. Really NOT CUTE. Now it's making me fat, and lethargic, and keeping me away from my friends. I swear we haven't had a full week with no snow since the middle of January. Enough is enough already!
But, then again, I guess the lack of anything else to do has helped to get me writing again, which is good. And it motivated me to finally get around to reading a book which has quickly catapulted to the top of my favorite books of all time list: "Traveling Mercies" by Anne Lamott. I plan to commit that book to memory- it is truly amazing.
Okay- I wrote. So there. More interesting stuff tomorrow, I promise.
Well, I'm writing now, and that's something at least. After all, I didn't pledge to write "prolifically" or even "well" every day, just to write.
It snowed here again last night- 8 inches. I swear sometimes I feel like it will never stop snowing. At first it was charming, in a 'hole-up-in-your-house-and--read-a- good-book-with-a-glass- of-wine-and some-pasta' kind of way. But it's not cute any more. Really NOT CUTE. Now it's making me fat, and lethargic, and keeping me away from my friends. I swear we haven't had a full week with no snow since the middle of January. Enough is enough already!
But, then again, I guess the lack of anything else to do has helped to get me writing again, which is good. And it motivated me to finally get around to reading a book which has quickly catapulted to the top of my favorite books of all time list: "Traveling Mercies" by Anne Lamott. I plan to commit that book to memory- it is truly amazing.
Okay- I wrote. So there. More interesting stuff tomorrow, I promise.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Life's too short, and other lessons I learned from white chocolate and lime
Okay, so I forgot to write on Friday. I was alone in the office for most of the afternoon and spent the majority of that time filling in blocks on Word document-created "Baby Bingo" game sheets for a baby shower I co-hosted on Sunday (yesterday), and though that is not an excuse, per-se, it is the reason I didn't write. Those suckers took a long time to fill out! (And then only half of them ended up being used, but that's another whiny story...)
But I have refused to beat myself up for failing to live up to my 5 days a week writing goal in the first week of its existence. Because beating myself up about something that is in the past and therefore out of my control would only spark a guilt-ridden backlash which would probably result in my scrapping the whole project. And that's not something I want to do. I've been thinking a lot lately that I need to learn to forgive myself when I make silly, small mistakes. I generally set the bar pretty (some would say unrealistically) high for myself, and then internally berate myself when I fail to live up to my own self-imposed and completely unnecessary/unrealistic goals. That's no bueno, and something I want to work to change. So I didn't write- it's not the end of the world, no one was hurt or killed (myself included), and all I can do is pick myself up, dust myself off, and start writing again this week.
This new and much needed policy of self-forgiveness first popped into existence this weekend as I prepared for the aforementioned baby shower. It just so happens that I am known in my social circle for being both an excellent party planner and dessert-maker extraordinaire. This is mostly based on my Monica-esque tendency to always want to be the hostess and my love for the challenge of tackling very precise and complicated recipes, both roles in which my control-freak/perfectionist personality tends to revel. However, in the process of creating and executing these little labors of love I tend to overextend myself and try to do everything by myself, which usually ends up making me a stressed out crazy person when only 5 of the 6 made-from-scratch desserts (or carefully compiled mix-CD favors, or individually designed "Baby Bingo" cards) turn out perfectly. In typical "Me" fashion, when faced with designing a menu for a good friend's baby shower, I decided to make not one, not two, but three different homemade desserts- coconut cupcakes (from a recipe I'd never attempted), dulche de leche sandwich cookies (with homemade dulche de leche, naturally) and two different variations of chocolate truffles, whose flavors would be inspired by the mother and father-to-be's interests and heritages. Overdoing it a little maybe? Clearly you don't know me very well.
So on Friday night after work, I began my baking extravaganza. Did I mention that despite having a grad school class from 9 to 5 on both Saturday and Sunday, I decided that- in the interest of freshness- I should just make everything on Friday and/or Saturday night? After sitting in class all day? For a shower that would begin on Sunday directly after I got out of class? I'm crazy- I don't deny it. After knocking out the sandwich cookies (which turned out pretty well, even if they a little messier looking than I'd hoped), I was attempting to melt some white chocolate to coat the margarita-flavored truffles I had decided upon for the mom-to-be (she's Mexican and was quite the tequila fan in her pre-preggo days) when I decided to add some lime juice to the chocolate, in hopes of furthering the margarita flavor. As I was tempering the chocolate in the microwave, I simply poured some lime juice over my nicely melting white chocolate chips, gave it a little stir and put the mixture back in the microwave for another 30 seconds. At the ding, I took out the bowl of what I assumed would be citrus-flavored white chocolate goodness, only to find a stiff, globby hunk of white chocolate mess, with a texture closer to dried out kindergarten paste than smooth, silky fondue.
Now, under normal circumstances, I would have freaked out about this, wringing my hands and declaring that I was a truffle-making failure and surely the party would be ruined. But, given the two glasses of wine I'd already consumed, the sandwich cookie's relative success, and the presence of two friends who had come over to help with the wine-drinking and cookie testing, I instead took it in stride. I told myself that my mistake had probably been as simple as microwaving the chocolate for too long, or at too high a temperature, or possibly just inferior white chocolate chips (I knew I should have gone for the more expensive brand). I could just dip the truffles tomorrow night. After class. Before I made the cupcakes. In that generous 2 hour window I'd have for all that, before spending some much needed and faithfully promised quality time with J. Yeah, that'd work... The next night, however, after having great success with the cupcakes (really, some of the best I've ever made, even despite- or perhaps because of- my futzing with the icing recipe), I confidently set about tempering some more white chocolate that Jay picked up for me after he got off work ("I promise honey- this will only take a few more minutes and then I'm all yours..."). This time I used the tried and true double boiler method- that silly microwave wouldn't screw ME up again- and just as the chocolate pieces were starting to soften and blur together, I pulled the bowl from the stove and stirred them into smooth, shiny liquid perfection. I then grabbed my lime, and my cute little citrus reamer, and- almost smugly- poured just under a 1/4 of a cup of lime juice into the melted chocolate. Immediate cloudiness. Then, as I began to stir, my lovely potion began to seize up and clump like bad biscuit dough. I stirred faster, hoping it just need to incorporate. The consistency thickened from that of lumpy batter to wet sand. I put the bowl back over the hot water, hoping the heat would help. It didn't. The mixture began to separate, giving off an oily residue. Meanwhile J sat on the couch. Almost an hour into our "date night".
Then the strangest thing happened. I didn't cry. Or get frustrated. Or declare that surely everyone at the baby shower would scoff at the idea of only one flavor of truffle and all storm out en masse taking their gifts with them, leaving the parents-to-be glaring at me through tears of pain and disappointment. I just scraped the ruined chocolate into the trash, called out to J that "Oh well, I guess we'll just have to go with one kind of truffle", and went to the other room to sit with my husband. And you know what? Everyone loved the one kind of truffle. And the cupcakes. Rave reviews all around. And the "messy looking" cookies were the fan favorite.
So I guess the moral of this story is that self-forgiveness feels pretty darn good. And setting up huge self-imposed hurdles and then worrying about how to clear them is really just a big unnecessary waste of time and energy. And people are usually pretty darn impressed with what I put out there anyway, even if it's not everything I set out to do. And spending time with my husband is much more important than trying to be Martha Stewart.
And white chocolate and lime juice do not mix. Maybe next time I'll try just adding the zest....
But I have refused to beat myself up for failing to live up to my 5 days a week writing goal in the first week of its existence. Because beating myself up about something that is in the past and therefore out of my control would only spark a guilt-ridden backlash which would probably result in my scrapping the whole project. And that's not something I want to do. I've been thinking a lot lately that I need to learn to forgive myself when I make silly, small mistakes. I generally set the bar pretty (some would say unrealistically) high for myself, and then internally berate myself when I fail to live up to my own self-imposed and completely unnecessary/unrealistic goals. That's no bueno, and something I want to work to change. So I didn't write- it's not the end of the world, no one was hurt or killed (myself included), and all I can do is pick myself up, dust myself off, and start writing again this week.
This new and much needed policy of self-forgiveness first popped into existence this weekend as I prepared for the aforementioned baby shower. It just so happens that I am known in my social circle for being both an excellent party planner and dessert-maker extraordinaire. This is mostly based on my Monica-esque tendency to always want to be the hostess and my love for the challenge of tackling very precise and complicated recipes, both roles in which my control-freak/perfectionist personality tends to revel. However, in the process of creating and executing these little labors of love I tend to overextend myself and try to do everything by myself, which usually ends up making me a stressed out crazy person when only 5 of the 6 made-from-scratch desserts (or carefully compiled mix-CD favors, or individually designed "Baby Bingo" cards) turn out perfectly. In typical "Me" fashion, when faced with designing a menu for a good friend's baby shower, I decided to make not one, not two, but three different homemade desserts- coconut cupcakes (from a recipe I'd never attempted), dulche de leche sandwich cookies (with homemade dulche de leche, naturally) and two different variations of chocolate truffles, whose flavors would be inspired by the mother and father-to-be's interests and heritages. Overdoing it a little maybe? Clearly you don't know me very well.
So on Friday night after work, I began my baking extravaganza. Did I mention that despite having a grad school class from 9 to 5 on both Saturday and Sunday, I decided that- in the interest of freshness- I should just make everything on Friday and/or Saturday night? After sitting in class all day? For a shower that would begin on Sunday directly after I got out of class? I'm crazy- I don't deny it. After knocking out the sandwich cookies (which turned out pretty well, even if they a little messier looking than I'd hoped), I was attempting to melt some white chocolate to coat the margarita-flavored truffles I had decided upon for the mom-to-be (she's Mexican and was quite the tequila fan in her pre-preggo days) when I decided to add some lime juice to the chocolate, in hopes of furthering the margarita flavor. As I was tempering the chocolate in the microwave, I simply poured some lime juice over my nicely melting white chocolate chips, gave it a little stir and put the mixture back in the microwave for another 30 seconds. At the ding, I took out the bowl of what I assumed would be citrus-flavored white chocolate goodness, only to find a stiff, globby hunk of white chocolate mess, with a texture closer to dried out kindergarten paste than smooth, silky fondue.
Now, under normal circumstances, I would have freaked out about this, wringing my hands and declaring that I was a truffle-making failure and surely the party would be ruined. But, given the two glasses of wine I'd already consumed, the sandwich cookie's relative success, and the presence of two friends who had come over to help with the wine-drinking and cookie testing, I instead took it in stride. I told myself that my mistake had probably been as simple as microwaving the chocolate for too long, or at too high a temperature, or possibly just inferior white chocolate chips (I knew I should have gone for the more expensive brand). I could just dip the truffles tomorrow night. After class. Before I made the cupcakes. In that generous 2 hour window I'd have for all that, before spending some much needed and faithfully promised quality time with J. Yeah, that'd work... The next night, however, after having great success with the cupcakes (really, some of the best I've ever made, even despite- or perhaps because of- my futzing with the icing recipe), I confidently set about tempering some more white chocolate that Jay picked up for me after he got off work ("I promise honey- this will only take a few more minutes and then I'm all yours..."). This time I used the tried and true double boiler method- that silly microwave wouldn't screw ME up again- and just as the chocolate pieces were starting to soften and blur together, I pulled the bowl from the stove and stirred them into smooth, shiny liquid perfection. I then grabbed my lime, and my cute little citrus reamer, and- almost smugly- poured just under a 1/4 of a cup of lime juice into the melted chocolate. Immediate cloudiness. Then, as I began to stir, my lovely potion began to seize up and clump like bad biscuit dough. I stirred faster, hoping it just need to incorporate. The consistency thickened from that of lumpy batter to wet sand. I put the bowl back over the hot water, hoping the heat would help. It didn't. The mixture began to separate, giving off an oily residue. Meanwhile J sat on the couch. Almost an hour into our "date night".
Then the strangest thing happened. I didn't cry. Or get frustrated. Or declare that surely everyone at the baby shower would scoff at the idea of only one flavor of truffle and all storm out en masse taking their gifts with them, leaving the parents-to-be glaring at me through tears of pain and disappointment. I just scraped the ruined chocolate into the trash, called out to J that "Oh well, I guess we'll just have to go with one kind of truffle", and went to the other room to sit with my husband. And you know what? Everyone loved the one kind of truffle. And the cupcakes. Rave reviews all around. And the "messy looking" cookies were the fan favorite.
So I guess the moral of this story is that self-forgiveness feels pretty darn good. And setting up huge self-imposed hurdles and then worrying about how to clear them is really just a big unnecessary waste of time and energy. And people are usually pretty darn impressed with what I put out there anyway, even if it's not everything I set out to do. And spending time with my husband is much more important than trying to be Martha Stewart.
And white chocolate and lime juice do not mix. Maybe next time I'll try just adding the zest....
Thursday, February 21, 2008
This may be cheating...
but hopefully I'll get around to writing again later. And I did write this, so it has to count at least a little bit, since 'writing every day' is the overall goal of this experiment. I'm justifying, I know. What can I say- my therapist canceled on me today (she's get over cataract surgery.... oops- there I go justifying again), so I must have some built up guilt/self-doubt just looking for an outlet. Anyway, this is an expansion of a response I wrote to a post on a friend's blog, and I like how it turned out:
I admit it- I read Realtor.com, and the local paper's 'Home Finder', and scan the neighborhoods I like for 'For Sale' signs. But that doesn't make me unfaithful. I love my apartment, I really do, but we both knew all along that it wasn't a long-term commitment, that she was just a fling, not marriage material. She's beautiful, my apartment, and quite a catch for the city, but she lacks substance- and reliable plumbing, and consistent heating, and a washer/dryer/dishwasher. She's a high-school drop out with a great stylist. I won't deny it: I'm with her for her huge sun rooms, her fabulous built-ins and her cute little yard. There's no shame in being a sucker for a great set of built-ins. But I'm still single and fancy free in the real estate sense- no mortgage on my finger, no sir, not me. Which leaves me free to flirt with other houses, other neighborhoods, other cities even, on other coasts. Lately I've been carrying on a secret online relationships in several places at once, including two local neighborhoods and some lingering long-distance flirtations with the cities of Philadelphia and Annapolis. And I don't feel guilty. I never said I wanted to settle down.
I blame my realty-commitment issues on my urban surroundings and friends. Of all of my friends here in the city, only one couple has ever owned a real 'house', with a yard and grown-up neighbors, and water bills. And even they're renting right now, as the taxes (and his divorce settlement) drove them out of their charming single family home. My friends all rent. Oh they talk about buying one day, but they don't really mean it. Because buying in the city means paying way too much for a shoe box of a condo, or leaving the city and moving to the burbs, which nobody wants to do. So we keep our downtown mistresses, changing addresses and lease agreements like Hugh Hefner changes blondes, always dreaming of the day that a change in job or financial situation will lead us to a nice girl-next door (or at least 'girl-down-the-block') type, that won't require changing zip codes or neighborhood bars.
But secretly, deep down (or not so deep down, it seems), I want to make that commitment- a real commitment, in front of all my friends and family- to a nice little 3 bedroom, 1 and a 1/2 bath Chicago-style bungalow with a front porch, hard wood floors, a postage stamp yard (just big enough for a tiny garden, a hammock, and a midsummer dinner party), and a garage. I dream about this house. I casually stroll through neighborhoods looking for her. I know she's out there, and I know she's out of my league, but still I think if I can just get the first date I can win her over. We may not stay together forever- so few urban homeowners do- but I know we'd make each other happy while it lasted... at least until the I got tired of sharing a bathroom.
I admit it- I read Realtor.com, and the local paper's 'Home Finder', and scan the neighborhoods I like for 'For Sale' signs. But that doesn't make me unfaithful. I love my apartment, I really do, but we both knew all along that it wasn't a long-term commitment, that she was just a fling, not marriage material. She's beautiful, my apartment, and quite a catch for the city, but she lacks substance- and reliable plumbing, and consistent heating, and a washer/dryer/dishwasher. She's a high-school drop out with a great stylist. I won't deny it: I'm with her for her huge sun rooms, her fabulous built-ins and her cute little yard. There's no shame in being a sucker for a great set of built-ins. But I'm still single and fancy free in the real estate sense- no mortgage on my finger, no sir, not me. Which leaves me free to flirt with other houses, other neighborhoods, other cities even, on other coasts. Lately I've been carrying on a secret online relationships in several places at once, including two local neighborhoods and some lingering long-distance flirtations with the cities of Philadelphia and Annapolis. And I don't feel guilty. I never said I wanted to settle down.
I blame my realty-commitment issues on my urban surroundings and friends. Of all of my friends here in the city, only one couple has ever owned a real 'house', with a yard and grown-up neighbors, and water bills. And even they're renting right now, as the taxes (and his divorce settlement) drove them out of their charming single family home. My friends all rent. Oh they talk about buying one day, but they don't really mean it. Because buying in the city means paying way too much for a shoe box of a condo, or leaving the city and moving to the burbs, which nobody wants to do. So we keep our downtown mistresses, changing addresses and lease agreements like Hugh Hefner changes blondes, always dreaming of the day that a change in job or financial situation will lead us to a nice girl-next door (or at least 'girl-down-the-block') type, that won't require changing zip codes or neighborhood bars.
But secretly, deep down (or not so deep down, it seems), I want to make that commitment- a real commitment, in front of all my friends and family- to a nice little 3 bedroom, 1 and a 1/2 bath Chicago-style bungalow with a front porch, hard wood floors, a postage stamp yard (just big enough for a tiny garden, a hammock, and a midsummer dinner party), and a garage. I dream about this house. I casually stroll through neighborhoods looking for her. I know she's out there, and I know she's out of my league, but still I think if I can just get the first date I can win her over. We may not stay together forever- so few urban homeowners do- but I know we'd make each other happy while it lasted... at least until the I got tired of sharing a bathroom.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
I'd say that I had spring fever, but I know it isn't spring
I've been coughing non-stop since yesterday afternoon. Perhaps writing that my cough sounds like my mothers' brought about some sort of cosmic intervention, in which I am being forced to acknowledge our similarities and her absence again and again and again.
Or maybe J's right and I have an Upper Respiratory Infection. Could go either way, really. I'm going to see both my therapist and my doctor tomorrow; I'm sure that one of them should be able to get to the bottom of things.
Two posts in a row about coughing- my life is truly fascinating.
It is still bitterly cold here. The kind of cold where the front of your thighs turn numb after walking just a few blocks (in pants and a long coat, mind you- I'm not just frolicking around pants-free and wondering why my legs are chilly). I thought that this winter I was dodging the old S.A.D. blues, but I think they may be beginning to set in. I really want it to be spring, and soon, but eight years of Chicago winters have taught me to know better. I'll have to settle for dreaming or reading of lovely spring mornings, full of crocuses, delicate sunshine and the smell of warm,wet dirt.
I'm thinking of taking J to New Orleans in April, for his birthday. I'd imagine that that's a city where they know how to throw a spring. The first time I went to NOLA was in August of last year, and I quickly found out why any natives with the means leave town in the summer. To say it was hot would be the equivalent of calling the ocean "moist". Heat or not, I fell right in love with that town. It's true southern funk personified- dark and light and rich and poor and good and evil all rolled up and shaken up and completely unapologetic about any of it. Spring time, in particular, seems like it would suit the whole virgin/whore New Orleans vibe: Mardi Gras and Easter, communion wafers and fried oyster po'boys, flowers in the Garden District and naked people in the Quarter. It's all about redemption, the natural progression from debauchery, despair, and death to enlightenment and reawakening- just like spring. Or a Tennessee Williams play.
Right now there's a sunbeam coming in my window and trying to convince me that it's warm outside, that if I just threw open my window I would be greeted by a warm and gentle breeze, redolent of daffodils. Back off buddy- I'm not that naive. I know there's no spring in Illinois. Just snow and coughs fraught with meaning.
Or maybe J's right and I have an Upper Respiratory Infection. Could go either way, really. I'm going to see both my therapist and my doctor tomorrow; I'm sure that one of them should be able to get to the bottom of things.
Two posts in a row about coughing- my life is truly fascinating.
It is still bitterly cold here. The kind of cold where the front of your thighs turn numb after walking just a few blocks (in pants and a long coat, mind you- I'm not just frolicking around pants-free and wondering why my legs are chilly). I thought that this winter I was dodging the old S.A.D. blues, but I think they may be beginning to set in. I really want it to be spring, and soon, but eight years of Chicago winters have taught me to know better. I'll have to settle for dreaming or reading of lovely spring mornings, full of crocuses, delicate sunshine and the smell of warm,wet dirt.
I'm thinking of taking J to New Orleans in April, for his birthday. I'd imagine that that's a city where they know how to throw a spring. The first time I went to NOLA was in August of last year, and I quickly found out why any natives with the means leave town in the summer. To say it was hot would be the equivalent of calling the ocean "moist". Heat or not, I fell right in love with that town. It's true southern funk personified- dark and light and rich and poor and good and evil all rolled up and shaken up and completely unapologetic about any of it. Spring time, in particular, seems like it would suit the whole virgin/whore New Orleans vibe: Mardi Gras and Easter, communion wafers and fried oyster po'boys, flowers in the Garden District and naked people in the Quarter. It's all about redemption, the natural progression from debauchery, despair, and death to enlightenment and reawakening- just like spring. Or a Tennessee Williams play.
Right now there's a sunbeam coming in my window and trying to convince me that it's warm outside, that if I just threw open my window I would be greeted by a warm and gentle breeze, redolent of daffodils. Back off buddy- I'm not that naive. I know there's no spring in Illinois. Just snow and coughs fraught with meaning.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Walking from the train
I have my mother's cough. When I cough, I do this little throat clearing thing at the end that sounds like her, a short but business-like "heh, hem". I can even hear her as I write that: "heh, hem". Funny the things that we remember and inherit. Sometimes I can feel her expressions on my face, or see a picture of myself and see her there, in my features, my gaze, my smile. It feels strange to be a living reflection of a dead woman. My aunt often tells me that I have her hands, and once when I was visiting in the valley where she grew up, a man in a store who had known her as a girl was physically startled by our similarity. Mamaw told me the last time I left that spending time with me was like having her back again. It weighs a lot, the burden of carrying on a memory, a legacy, especially one that is not your own and one you don't even know for sure.
Once more, for posterity
I'm going to try an experiment- again.
I'm going to try to write on this blog every weekday (weekends are not required, but do earn bonus points) for the next year.
I don't have to write a lot, or write anything meaningful, or good or artistically/intellectually/emotionally relevant, I just have to write SOMETHING.
Let's see how that goes.
I'm going to try to write on this blog every weekday (weekends are not required, but do earn bonus points) for the next year.
I don't have to write a lot, or write anything meaningful, or good or artistically/intellectually/emotionally relevant, I just have to write SOMETHING.
Let's see how that goes.
Friday, May 25, 2007
so funny i cried
i found this list on Indiebride under a thread called "Unfunny things that disproportionately amuse you". omigod, these made me LAAAAAAAAUGH! this is a list of actual url names that people maybe should have thought about a little bit longer...
1. Who Represents is where you can find the name of the agent that represents any celebrity. Their Web site is http://www.whorepresents.com
2 . Experts Exchange is a knowledge base where programmers can exchange advice and views at http://www.expertsexchange.com
3. Looking for a pen? Look no further than Pen Island at http://www.penisland.net
4. Need a therapist? Try Therapist Finder at http://www.therapistfinder.com
5. There's the Italian Power Generator company, http://www.powergenitalia.com
6. And don't forget the Mole Station Native Nursery in New South Wales,
http://www.molestationnursery.com
7. If you're looking for IP computer software, there's always
http://www.ipanywhere.com
8. The First Cumming Methodist Church Web site is http://www.cummingfirst.com
9. And the designers at Speed of Art await you at their wacky Web site, http://www.speedofart.com
1. Who Represents is where you can find the name of the agent that represents any celebrity. Their Web site is http://www.whorepresents.com
2 . Experts Exchange is a knowledge base where programmers can exchange advice and views at http://www.expertsexchange.com
3. Looking for a pen? Look no further than Pen Island at http://www.penisland.net
4. Need a therapist? Try Therapist Finder at http://www.therapistfinder.com
5. There's the Italian Power Generator company, http://www.powergenitalia.com
6. And don't forget the Mole Station Native Nursery in New South Wales,
http://www.molestationnursery.com
7. If you're looking for IP computer software, there's always
http://www.ipanywhere.com
8. The First Cumming Methodist Church Web site is http://www.cummingfirst.com
9. And the designers at Speed of Art await you at their wacky Web site, http://www.speedofart.com
about face aaaaaand forward march...
my grandad died. which is fine, it's what he wanted and he had the ultimate luxury of choosing when he went as well as where and how. it was as peaceful and ideal as a death could be, and, for my own peace of mind, i got to sing to him and say goodbye, which was a luxury as well.
oddly, his passing marks a major power shift, and subsequently makes me feel that much closer to 90. now a new generation- my aunt and uncle- are the "elders", and i am shifted up to the "adult" category. i'm not sure how i feel about that. it's a bit scary, i've got to say. i'm much more peter pan than i thought i was, which is an interesting discovery to make. and for a girl who considers herself an expert, i'm much more scared of death than i thought. i'm going back to see my therapist in a few weeks, after a year's absence, for a tune-up; hopefully that will help me figure out these new feelings before they get too heavy.
forget 'breaking up', growing up is hard to do...but i have now officially resolved to attempt the job, to move forward steadily, if slowly, and try to walk away from past weights and worries. it seems like the right thing to do, and, much like exercising, i'm sure it will feel good afterwards even if it's hard to get started. i even changed the name of this blog. all my life i've hated being labeled "the girl with the big boobs", so why should i then self-apply the label of "the girl with the dead parents"? much like the boobs, the dead parents are just a part of who i am, and i don't think anyone (myself included) needs a big flashing sign to remind them that that part exists.
but this is not a post about death or growing up or moving on. this is actually a post about a dress. this dress to be exact:
i mean, seriously people- who would look good in this dress? it makes the model look fat. only a two year old child should wear this dress. why are all of this season's clothes designed to make women look as huge or pregnant as humanly possible? it needs to stop. speaking of moving forward, i think the fashion industry needs to do so, as soon as possible, and stop recreating the worst parts of the 60's 70's and 80's. bad clothes happened, but we can't dwell on that. move on, fashion designers of the world- if i can do it, you can do it. calm down, wise up, and step away from the flowy caftans and waist-less mini-dresses. immediatly...
oddly, his passing marks a major power shift, and subsequently makes me feel that much closer to 90. now a new generation- my aunt and uncle- are the "elders", and i am shifted up to the "adult" category. i'm not sure how i feel about that. it's a bit scary, i've got to say. i'm much more peter pan than i thought i was, which is an interesting discovery to make. and for a girl who considers herself an expert, i'm much more scared of death than i thought. i'm going back to see my therapist in a few weeks, after a year's absence, for a tune-up; hopefully that will help me figure out these new feelings before they get too heavy.
forget 'breaking up', growing up is hard to do...but i have now officially resolved to attempt the job, to move forward steadily, if slowly, and try to walk away from past weights and worries. it seems like the right thing to do, and, much like exercising, i'm sure it will feel good afterwards even if it's hard to get started. i even changed the name of this blog. all my life i've hated being labeled "the girl with the big boobs", so why should i then self-apply the label of "the girl with the dead parents"? much like the boobs, the dead parents are just a part of who i am, and i don't think anyone (myself included) needs a big flashing sign to remind them that that part exists.
but this is not a post about death or growing up or moving on. this is actually a post about a dress. this dress to be exact:
i mean, seriously people- who would look good in this dress? it makes the model look fat. only a two year old child should wear this dress. why are all of this season's clothes designed to make women look as huge or pregnant as humanly possible? it needs to stop. speaking of moving forward, i think the fashion industry needs to do so, as soon as possible, and stop recreating the worst parts of the 60's 70's and 80's. bad clothes happened, but we can't dwell on that. move on, fashion designers of the world- if i can do it, you can do it. calm down, wise up, and step away from the flowy caftans and waist-less mini-dresses. immediatly...
Sunday, April 29, 2007
enough already
so, here i am again, for the second time in six months, on a last minute trip to maryland, waiting for a grandparent to "let nature take it's course". my grandfather is in the process of "letting go" (so many cheesy phrases for death, so little tolerance for phrases in "quotes"...), and i am here, along with my family, waiting for it to happen. his son died three years ago, his wife of 65 years died in november, and he will have been on this earth for 92 years as of august, so i guess it's only fair that he should want out. i can't even truly be sad for any other reason than my own selfish sense of loss; he's lonely, he's old, and he's ready to go- of course he doesn't want to "keep going" under those circumstances. i love him, and i will miss him, but i would never want him to keep living just to make me or anyone else in my family happy.
but to get to the real point: enough already! i'm sick of going to funerals! i'm sick of my family dying! i could do just fine with a decade or two break from hushed voices, sad church services and sprinkling ashes. i get it, okay- people die, life is fleeting, nobody's safe. I GET IT!! can't i just get a break for a while? can't i not cringe whenever i get a late night or early morning phone call from the east coast? can't everyone just live for a while? i need a break, i really really do. i can't even cry anymore, i just feel numb.
death sucks. i think that pretty much sums up what i want to say. it just sucks.
but to get to the real point: enough already! i'm sick of going to funerals! i'm sick of my family dying! i could do just fine with a decade or two break from hushed voices, sad church services and sprinkling ashes. i get it, okay- people die, life is fleeting, nobody's safe. I GET IT!! can't i just get a break for a while? can't i not cringe whenever i get a late night or early morning phone call from the east coast? can't everyone just live for a while? i need a break, i really really do. i can't even cry anymore, i just feel numb.
death sucks. i think that pretty much sums up what i want to say. it just sucks.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Told you so...
see, i said i was fickle- i haven't written a post in almost a month, and as far as the other interests i mentioned previously, well, let's just say that i'm wearing clothes from ann taylor loft, i'm buying my lunch today, and it would be a miracle if i went to the gym this week. i do still check bluelines pretty frequently though...
today is J's birthday, and i'm feeling like a failure of a wife, as i don't think he's having a particularly great one. we went out of town with friends this weekend to watch some baseball, and then last night i organized a dinner with the same friends to celebrate (he has to work tonight, unfortunately) and gave him his present (tickets to see the dahli lama speak when he's in town next month). but he was in a funk all last night, and now i'm paranoid that he didn't have any fun. i know that's more his stuff than mine (he's an introspective one, my guy, and tends to get morose around his birthday), but i still feel like i've let him down. will i ever stop feeling the need to please everyone, all the time? when did it become an accepted truth for me that it is my sole responsibility to make everyone happy, all the time, even at my own expense?
sheesh- fickle AND a whiny bitch; this self-discovery thing is not really going my way...
today is J's birthday, and i'm feeling like a failure of a wife, as i don't think he's having a particularly great one. we went out of town with friends this weekend to watch some baseball, and then last night i organized a dinner with the same friends to celebrate (he has to work tonight, unfortunately) and gave him his present (tickets to see the dahli lama speak when he's in town next month). but he was in a funk all last night, and now i'm paranoid that he didn't have any fun. i know that's more his stuff than mine (he's an introspective one, my guy, and tends to get morose around his birthday), but i still feel like i've let him down. will i ever stop feeling the need to please everyone, all the time? when did it become an accepted truth for me that it is my sole responsibility to make everyone happy, all the time, even at my own expense?
sheesh- fickle AND a whiny bitch; this self-discovery thing is not really going my way...
Friday, March 30, 2007
Fickle
as my horoscope for 2007 said would be the case, this year so far has been all about self discovery. being back in school while also working full time has taught me a lot about how i handle stress and how i prioritize, reminding me that school is about the learning, not about the grades. through WW and some serious diet/exercise evaluation, i have started to examine when and why i eat, helping me to start changing my emotional eating habits. for the last few weeks i have been analyzing why i tend to give myself such strict deadlines for life accomplishments, and how i can stop doing this (as it does nothing but make me frustrated, sad or- surprisingly- much less productive). i have also recently discovered that instead of feeling the baby urges that all of my friends said i would the minute that the wedding dress hit moth balls, i am instead feeling the housing urge, and desperately want to own my own home in the next few years; i want a garden and a porch and the ability to control my own heat and paint my damn walls whatever color i want to.
but here, on a much less serious note, i will explore another of my newly discovered traits: i am extremely fickle. not with the important things, like love or friendship or moral/political beliefs, but with the little things, like maintaining a blog, exercising regularly, and hobbies. i am a big stop-and-start-er, always very very into the activity-du-jour. i never thought of myself as fickle before, but it's true. and not such a bad thing really, as long as it never affects the aforementioned "important things", and as long as i can learn to stop beating myself up for my lack of follow through.
so here are some of my latest interests, pursuits and goals. no doubt i will forget or cease most (if not all) of them by the end of the summer, but i'm totally digging them now, nonetheless:
Blueprint Magazine- they have the coolest blog, called bluelines, that gives all sorts of hip crafty things to do with your apartment and office and clothes. i have always wanted to be crafty, and sometimes i have even eked out small amounts of creative project work. but in my new mode of self-discovery, and self-acceptance, i am currently content to read about other people's hip craftiness and make imaginary mental notes about how i too should become a connoisseur of obscure citrus fruits.
Sewing- based on the blueprint obsession (and on the fact that i HATE the newest fashion trends of leggings, blousy maternity-looking tops and waist-less sack dresses), i've been thinking that i should learn to sew my own cute little tops and fifties style sundresses. sure, i've had this same thought for years, but this could just be the summer i make it happen.
Exercising- ah, my old nemesis, working out! this summer i have no excuse not to break my cycle of letting my exercise regime fall all to hell at the beginning of june- my gym is right across the street from my office, i have one hour lunch breaks just aching to be spent on the elliptical machine, and I HAVE AN ELLIPTICAL MACHINE IN MY FRIGGIN' BEDROOM!!! no excuse, even for those days when i say that walking is exercise enough- i can walk as bonus exercise, after i've gotten my big butt some real action for at least 30 minutes.
Writing (blog and otherwise)- i have been meaning to start writing about my mom and dad for about as long as they've been dead. every week or so i'll get the urge to start this project, and then let myself get distracted and forget it. it's got to stop...or, er, to start. it's time i paid the piper (or the paper, as it were...) and started writing all of these memories of mine down. at the very least it will be good therapy (back to the whole self-discovery theme) and at the very most i will write a brilliant and touching account of an unconventional american family that i will then adapt into a brilliant hollywood screenplay in which i will be played by kate winslet and for which i will be nominated for a best adapted screenplay oscar, earning me a seat at the oscars right next to george clooney (who may play my dad).
Gardening (esp. tomatoes and green beans and herbs)- this year i must plan my little back yard plot and get things in the ground before the middle of june. i want fresh vegetables, and i don't want to have to pay for them! subsequently, this will also help with both my exercising goal, my healthier eating goal, and my spending more time digging in the dirt on a sunny day goal (which i didn't bother to write down).
Cooking (with said tomatoes and green beans and herbs)- i want to start having more people over to dinner. maybe it's the winter blah's or being so busy with school and work that i feel like J is the only person i've seen since january started, but i want to reestablish my social butterfly self this summer and have lots of little dinner parties. this will also serve to remind me that i do actually have friends in this city other than J, a fact which i frequently tend to forget.
Learning Spanish, brushing up my French, and sharpening my computer skills (possibly learning some basics of web design)- all of these things will help my chances when i start looking for a librarian job in the not so distant future. plus, they're things i've always wanted to learn.
and now, in my fickle way, i've lost interest in listing things, so i'm going to stop.
but here, on a much less serious note, i will explore another of my newly discovered traits: i am extremely fickle. not with the important things, like love or friendship or moral/political beliefs, but with the little things, like maintaining a blog, exercising regularly, and hobbies. i am a big stop-and-start-er, always very very into the activity-du-jour. i never thought of myself as fickle before, but it's true. and not such a bad thing really, as long as it never affects the aforementioned "important things", and as long as i can learn to stop beating myself up for my lack of follow through.
so here are some of my latest interests, pursuits and goals. no doubt i will forget or cease most (if not all) of them by the end of the summer, but i'm totally digging them now, nonetheless:
Blueprint Magazine- they have the coolest blog, called bluelines, that gives all sorts of hip crafty things to do with your apartment and office and clothes. i have always wanted to be crafty, and sometimes i have even eked out small amounts of creative project work. but in my new mode of self-discovery, and self-acceptance, i am currently content to read about other people's hip craftiness and make imaginary mental notes about how i too should become a connoisseur of obscure citrus fruits.
Sewing- based on the blueprint obsession (and on the fact that i HATE the newest fashion trends of leggings, blousy maternity-looking tops and waist-less sack dresses), i've been thinking that i should learn to sew my own cute little tops and fifties style sundresses. sure, i've had this same thought for years, but this could just be the summer i make it happen.
Exercising- ah, my old nemesis, working out! this summer i have no excuse not to break my cycle of letting my exercise regime fall all to hell at the beginning of june- my gym is right across the street from my office, i have one hour lunch breaks just aching to be spent on the elliptical machine, and I HAVE AN ELLIPTICAL MACHINE IN MY FRIGGIN' BEDROOM!!! no excuse, even for those days when i say that walking is exercise enough- i can walk as bonus exercise, after i've gotten my big butt some real action for at least 30 minutes.
Writing (blog and otherwise)- i have been meaning to start writing about my mom and dad for about as long as they've been dead. every week or so i'll get the urge to start this project, and then let myself get distracted and forget it. it's got to stop...or, er, to start. it's time i paid the piper (or the paper, as it were...) and started writing all of these memories of mine down. at the very least it will be good therapy (back to the whole self-discovery theme) and at the very most i will write a brilliant and touching account of an unconventional american family that i will then adapt into a brilliant hollywood screenplay in which i will be played by kate winslet and for which i will be nominated for a best adapted screenplay oscar, earning me a seat at the oscars right next to george clooney (who may play my dad).
Gardening (esp. tomatoes and green beans and herbs)- this year i must plan my little back yard plot and get things in the ground before the middle of june. i want fresh vegetables, and i don't want to have to pay for them! subsequently, this will also help with both my exercising goal, my healthier eating goal, and my spending more time digging in the dirt on a sunny day goal (which i didn't bother to write down).
Cooking (with said tomatoes and green beans and herbs)- i want to start having more people over to dinner. maybe it's the winter blah's or being so busy with school and work that i feel like J is the only person i've seen since january started, but i want to reestablish my social butterfly self this summer and have lots of little dinner parties. this will also serve to remind me that i do actually have friends in this city other than J, a fact which i frequently tend to forget.
Learning Spanish, brushing up my French, and sharpening my computer skills (possibly learning some basics of web design)- all of these things will help my chances when i start looking for a librarian job in the not so distant future. plus, they're things i've always wanted to learn.
and now, in my fickle way, i've lost interest in listing things, so i'm going to stop.
Monday, March 12, 2007
11
today my alarm clock didn't go off- even though i am sure that i set it before i went to bed- and i overslept by about 20 minutes. when i did wake up and notice the time, i sprang out of bed and ran to the shower, jumping in even before the water had heated up all the way, "damn!"ing and "fuck!"ing the whole time. how could i have overslept when i knew that i needed to catch the train today so that J could study for his psychology class? as i was standing under the luke warm water, J poked his head in and said that he could drive me to work and just take his psych quizzes later in the day; after a few feeble protests, i thanked him (grateful for such a calm and patient husband) and calmed down a bit, realizing that i had just gained back the lost twenty minutes. i relaxed into my morning shower, enjoying the now warmer water and the extra "me" time.
standing there under the shower, my mind began to wander, and then, out of nowhere, i remembered what day it is. at first it was just a thought, just passing through my head, one i've had before, for such a long time now, that i didn't really focus on it. but for some reason it stopped there, and hung there, and for the first time in a long time i really realized that it has been 11 years. and it hit me, like it hasn't hit me in a long time, and my spine felt heavy and my mind felt fuzzy and suddenly i felt sick, and tired, and sad, and standing there under the water was the only place in the world that i wanted to be.
i got out of the shower and went about my business: dried my hair, brushed my teeth, put lotion on my face. and it was still there, like a film or a weight, but i had to get ready for work, i was still running late, and i went to get dressed, waking J up and asking him how he slept. as i thought of what i would wear today, i remembered the silver earrings that were hers, the one's i thought i had lost after christmas but then found again in february, on the day of her birthday in fact, and that J had said she returned to me as a present. i went to the kitchen to fix breakfast and find something to take for lunch. i wasn't hungry, but i made myself fix a bowl of oatmeal, because not eating now, today, seemed so silly and melodramatic, and i'd surely be hungry by lunch time. there was nothing to take for lunch, so i decided to grab something from the cafeteria at work. i ripped open the packet of oatmeal and poured in the milk and set the microwave for 2 minutes and 40 seconds.
i went back to the bedroom and woke J up again- 'we have to leave in ten minutes'- and got dressed quickly. i put on the earrings and my silver locket with her picture (though i never open it to look anymore), and looked in the mirror and noticed that it was too much silver, too close together, but i had to wear them both today, so oh well. i put on my socks- would she have liked the black socks with the butterflies?- and my boots and grabbed my school work from beside the computer in the office, so that i could work on it today at work.
i looked for a twenty dollar bill that i'd had yesterday, going through all of my pants pockets and jacket pockets and even the pockets of my purse that i hadn't been carrying, and i got annoyed that i couldn't find it, mad that i'd possibly lost it- how could i be so careless, so wasteful? as i went back to check the jeans pockets again, i called to J that we needed to get going, then checked again in the pockets for the bill i knew by now i must have lost. J assured me that he hadn't seen it, and that i hadn't spent it yesterday, but that it was 'sure to turn up'; how stupid, i thought, to say that something that was surely lost would just 'turn up'.
i grabbed the bowl of oatmeal as we were walking out the door. walking onto the porch i noticed that it was raining, and i rushed ahead of J down the stairs, not wanting to wait for him.
in the car i noticed the rain again, and thought to myself that it was appropriate. then i thought how on my wedding day rain had been hailed as a blessing, so why should it seem so different now? i looked at the raindrops on the window and felt silly and self-indulgent. i didn't say anything to J. what could he do? he always gets uncomfortable when i bring it up- he doesn't understand, can't relate, it frustrates him that he can't fix it-so why make both of us feel bad. i turned my face away from him and cried, just a little, and suddenly wanted to call in sick to work and curl up on the couch all day and cry and cry and scream, but that would be even more silly, and useless, so i kept my face turned and didn't say a word.
i still want to go home. she would think i was being melodramatic. it's been 11 years- i want to tell everyone and no one- 11 years. i wish that i knew more people who would understand why this day matters, really understand and relate. i wish that i thought about her more often, that i remembered her more. i wish it was just a monday, a rainy monday in march and not this ridiculous, self-indulgent, self-inflicted anniversary that makes me want to throw up and curl up and hide, that makes my mind feel heavy and blurred and useless. that makes me feel like a child, a lost little child, an orphan.
but i'm not a child. and i don't have time to hide. and today is just a rainy monday in march, and i have work to do.
standing there under the shower, my mind began to wander, and then, out of nowhere, i remembered what day it is. at first it was just a thought, just passing through my head, one i've had before, for such a long time now, that i didn't really focus on it. but for some reason it stopped there, and hung there, and for the first time in a long time i really realized that it has been 11 years. and it hit me, like it hasn't hit me in a long time, and my spine felt heavy and my mind felt fuzzy and suddenly i felt sick, and tired, and sad, and standing there under the water was the only place in the world that i wanted to be.
i got out of the shower and went about my business: dried my hair, brushed my teeth, put lotion on my face. and it was still there, like a film or a weight, but i had to get ready for work, i was still running late, and i went to get dressed, waking J up and asking him how he slept. as i thought of what i would wear today, i remembered the silver earrings that were hers, the one's i thought i had lost after christmas but then found again in february, on the day of her birthday in fact, and that J had said she returned to me as a present. i went to the kitchen to fix breakfast and find something to take for lunch. i wasn't hungry, but i made myself fix a bowl of oatmeal, because not eating now, today, seemed so silly and melodramatic, and i'd surely be hungry by lunch time. there was nothing to take for lunch, so i decided to grab something from the cafeteria at work. i ripped open the packet of oatmeal and poured in the milk and set the microwave for 2 minutes and 40 seconds.
i went back to the bedroom and woke J up again- 'we have to leave in ten minutes'- and got dressed quickly. i put on the earrings and my silver locket with her picture (though i never open it to look anymore), and looked in the mirror and noticed that it was too much silver, too close together, but i had to wear them both today, so oh well. i put on my socks- would she have liked the black socks with the butterflies?- and my boots and grabbed my school work from beside the computer in the office, so that i could work on it today at work.
i looked for a twenty dollar bill that i'd had yesterday, going through all of my pants pockets and jacket pockets and even the pockets of my purse that i hadn't been carrying, and i got annoyed that i couldn't find it, mad that i'd possibly lost it- how could i be so careless, so wasteful? as i went back to check the jeans pockets again, i called to J that we needed to get going, then checked again in the pockets for the bill i knew by now i must have lost. J assured me that he hadn't seen it, and that i hadn't spent it yesterday, but that it was 'sure to turn up'; how stupid, i thought, to say that something that was surely lost would just 'turn up'.
i grabbed the bowl of oatmeal as we were walking out the door. walking onto the porch i noticed that it was raining, and i rushed ahead of J down the stairs, not wanting to wait for him.
in the car i noticed the rain again, and thought to myself that it was appropriate. then i thought how on my wedding day rain had been hailed as a blessing, so why should it seem so different now? i looked at the raindrops on the window and felt silly and self-indulgent. i didn't say anything to J. what could he do? he always gets uncomfortable when i bring it up- he doesn't understand, can't relate, it frustrates him that he can't fix it-so why make both of us feel bad. i turned my face away from him and cried, just a little, and suddenly wanted to call in sick to work and curl up on the couch all day and cry and cry and scream, but that would be even more silly, and useless, so i kept my face turned and didn't say a word.
i still want to go home. she would think i was being melodramatic. it's been 11 years- i want to tell everyone and no one- 11 years. i wish that i knew more people who would understand why this day matters, really understand and relate. i wish that i thought about her more often, that i remembered her more. i wish it was just a monday, a rainy monday in march and not this ridiculous, self-indulgent, self-inflicted anniversary that makes me want to throw up and curl up and hide, that makes my mind feel heavy and blurred and useless. that makes me feel like a child, a lost little child, an orphan.
but i'm not a child. and i don't have time to hide. and today is just a rainy monday in march, and i have work to do.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Addicted
so i recently re-started weight watchers (which i so wisely started for the first time last fall, about two weeks before thanksgiving- not the best idea), and it is really making me examine how and why i eat. i am doing the "points" system, which i really love because it does not make any food totally off-limits, just insists that if you're going to eat pizza or have a few glasses of wine you must watch portion sizes or limit what you eat before or after your splurge. on the points system you must write down everything you eat over the course of a day, in order to make sure that you are sticking to your allotted daily points allowance (mine is 23). i am and always have been a major fan of list writing, so this is very effective for me- i automatically feel accountable for anything that is written down. you also get 35 "bonus points" which you can use at any time during the week for occasions like going out to dinner, or giving in to a chocolate craving after a day of normal eating. i love the bonus points, and tend to hoard them until the end of the week , so that by sunday i have most of them leftover and can park in front of the tv with some cheese and crackers and wine. i have also been exercising more, since that helps you earn more points, or at least cancels out a few if you happen to go over by a point or two one day.
the thing i love most about weight watchers though is how it has helped me recognize my eating habits. i have always secretly known, but now there's no denying it- i am a totally emotion-driven eater. food is my ultimate comfort and reward and special secret grown-up splurge for myself. i eat when i'm bored, when i've had a bad day, when i'm having a low self-esteem day, or when i'm feeling sorry for myself. when i have a friday night home alone, all i want to do is eat a whole pizza and drink four glasses of wine while watching tv. even though the food does not make me feel better, truly, but more often than not just makes me feel worse the next day- which just starts the cycle all over again and gets me back on the phone to Chicago's Pizza.
last night this became particularly clear. i came home from work and spent a quiet night in with J, fixing a nice healthy dinner and drinking a little of the leftover champagne from our tiny oscar party. we also happened to have some of the most amazing homemade chocolate almond pudding left over from the party, and i had been planning to have some (specifically saving points) after dinner, but after i ate found that i was perfectly full, so i had another glass of champagne instead and figured i was done eating for the night. we started watching a movie and that was that. but i couldn't stop thinking about that pudding, right there in the refrigerator, waiting for me. several times i almost got up to get it, rationalizing that i could just dip into some of my bonus points for the week. then i checked in with myself and recognized that i was not hungry, but i still wanted that pudding. even knowing it would make me uncomfortably full, or at least not make me feel any better, i still wanted it. that's when i realized- i am addicted to food. weird. i never thought of it that way. my dad was an alcoholic, and i do like a good end of the day cocktail or glass of wine (or three), so i often wondered if i had inherited his addiction. but apparently i have my very own. i have no problem going several days or longer without a drink, or cutting myself off if i feel like i've reached my limit of drunkenness, but i lack that natural self control with food. i can't even count the times i have continued eating when i knew my body was full, even to the point of discomfort- just because the food was there. and it really was a struggle to talk myself out of that pudding, even though my body didn't want it. it's a habit, eating, treating and coddling myself with food. it was a snowy night, i was cuddling with my husband, what better to fill out that scene than some cozy pudding?
it's official: my name is Chanteuse, and i am a food-a-holic.
so i am glad to be back on WW, monitoring my ideas about food, changing these emotional habits, and facing my addiction. i really do feel like knowing is half the battle. i will always love and enjoy food, and there's no need for anyone to worry that i will swing to the opposite side of the spectrum and dabble in the dark side of food obsession (i may be controlling and obsessive about many things, but i'd never have the delusional self-control to be anorexic or bulimic). it's just nice to actually slow down and enjoy my food now, instead of eating so much and so fast, "as though someone's going to take it away from me"(as my mother always said). and to eat for physical and sensual nourishment, instead of emotional comfort or consolation. it's nice to see food as a fun, good-natured friend, and not a secret, co-dependant relationship.
the thing i love most about weight watchers though is how it has helped me recognize my eating habits. i have always secretly known, but now there's no denying it- i am a totally emotion-driven eater. food is my ultimate comfort and reward and special secret grown-up splurge for myself. i eat when i'm bored, when i've had a bad day, when i'm having a low self-esteem day, or when i'm feeling sorry for myself. when i have a friday night home alone, all i want to do is eat a whole pizza and drink four glasses of wine while watching tv. even though the food does not make me feel better, truly, but more often than not just makes me feel worse the next day- which just starts the cycle all over again and gets me back on the phone to Chicago's Pizza.
last night this became particularly clear. i came home from work and spent a quiet night in with J, fixing a nice healthy dinner and drinking a little of the leftover champagne from our tiny oscar party. we also happened to have some of the most amazing homemade chocolate almond pudding left over from the party, and i had been planning to have some (specifically saving points) after dinner, but after i ate found that i was perfectly full, so i had another glass of champagne instead and figured i was done eating for the night. we started watching a movie and that was that. but i couldn't stop thinking about that pudding, right there in the refrigerator, waiting for me. several times i almost got up to get it, rationalizing that i could just dip into some of my bonus points for the week. then i checked in with myself and recognized that i was not hungry, but i still wanted that pudding. even knowing it would make me uncomfortably full, or at least not make me feel any better, i still wanted it. that's when i realized- i am addicted to food. weird. i never thought of it that way. my dad was an alcoholic, and i do like a good end of the day cocktail or glass of wine (or three), so i often wondered if i had inherited his addiction. but apparently i have my very own. i have no problem going several days or longer without a drink, or cutting myself off if i feel like i've reached my limit of drunkenness, but i lack that natural self control with food. i can't even count the times i have continued eating when i knew my body was full, even to the point of discomfort- just because the food was there. and it really was a struggle to talk myself out of that pudding, even though my body didn't want it. it's a habit, eating, treating and coddling myself with food. it was a snowy night, i was cuddling with my husband, what better to fill out that scene than some cozy pudding?
it's official: my name is Chanteuse, and i am a food-a-holic.
so i am glad to be back on WW, monitoring my ideas about food, changing these emotional habits, and facing my addiction. i really do feel like knowing is half the battle. i will always love and enjoy food, and there's no need for anyone to worry that i will swing to the opposite side of the spectrum and dabble in the dark side of food obsession (i may be controlling and obsessive about many things, but i'd never have the delusional self-control to be anorexic or bulimic). it's just nice to actually slow down and enjoy my food now, instead of eating so much and so fast, "as though someone's going to take it away from me"(as my mother always said). and to eat for physical and sensual nourishment, instead of emotional comfort or consolation. it's nice to see food as a fun, good-natured friend, and not a secret, co-dependant relationship.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
My Infrared Debut
Here are some videos that someone shot of my band's regular Tuesday night gig this week. It looks like they were shot with an infrared camera in a dark cave, but the sound quality is not bad. Of course this was shot on a night that I was exhausted and especially pissed off to be there, so I don't actually look or sound my best (Why was I wearing a scarf that made my boobs look even bigger than usual and swaying like a hyper-active monkey that has to pee? Perhaps in hopes that the videos would end up on YouTube and I would look like Mama Cass on Ritalin?), but here they are anyway:
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Black Wednesday
today is sucky. plain and simple. i woke up in a ragingly bad mood, and then instead of trying to talk myself out of said mood, i decided to pick a fight with my perfectly wonderful husband, who got into a nasty mood himself and proceeded to fail a psychology quiz, for which i feel (rightly so) totally responsible. then i got to work and it was picture day- the day we designated a week ago as the day to take pictures for the department website- and, as has been the norm as of late, i looked like total dog crap. now i can't concentrate. and i feel so bad that j failed his quiz- why he married a moody bitch like me, i'll never know. we're going out to dinner tonight after work to cheer him up, and i know i will just spend the whole time feeling like some abusive spouse who doesn't deserve what she's got. man, i need to learn how to control these mood swings of mine; god only knows how he's going to survive it if i get pregnant someday.
so i redesigned my blog- anybody like it? anybody reading it? maybe i'm just typing for my own enjoyment, and that's fine really. it will get me through the dark months, which have now officially arrived. it's cold here now, wicked cold (to steal the new england-ism), and it's looks like winter is here to stay for a while. sometimes i wish i were a forest animal and could just hibernate, at least for the post-Christmas months. all i want to do lately is lie in bed and eat, which- i gotta tell ya- is doing wonders for my ass. i'm trying to psyche myself back into dieting and exercising, but so far the progress has been minimal. i have cut back on drinking lately, due to the school work and busier schedule, which, by association, reduces the chances of 2am pizza feasting, but i continue to stare blankly at the huge elliptical machine in my bedroom as though i'm not sure what it is or how it got there. the thing is in my room- i clearly have no excuse whatsoever. maybe the threat of summer and an end to bulky sweaters and thigh-disguising pants will motivate me. i need to exercise, cuz god knows i don't have the willpower to go on any truly effective diet, and even if i did, my body never changes through diet alone anyway. its just too damn cold to walk outside, which is my favorite way to get moving. i should go back to yoga.
i'm thinking of quitting my band- they're getting on my nerves, and i feel like it's more of an obligation than a joy these days. though i would really miss singing. maybe i should just start looking for a more interesting and motivated band, one that actually gets gigs and rehearses, and has a pre-established leader with some drive and some management skills. i don't want to be the leader, i just want to sing. yeah, that's a good idea, i should give myself another project to go with work, grad school, marriage and trying to work out more- great idea.
sorry guys- now i'm just whining. bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh.
i should be reading for class or working on my pathfinder or my association project or one of many other assignments i am supposed to be staying ahead of. but all i really want to do right now is dive into a big bowl of pasta carbonara, a glass (okay, a bottle) of red wine and about a million episodes of Friends.
if summertime rolls, winter time blows.
so i redesigned my blog- anybody like it? anybody reading it? maybe i'm just typing for my own enjoyment, and that's fine really. it will get me through the dark months, which have now officially arrived. it's cold here now, wicked cold (to steal the new england-ism), and it's looks like winter is here to stay for a while. sometimes i wish i were a forest animal and could just hibernate, at least for the post-Christmas months. all i want to do lately is lie in bed and eat, which- i gotta tell ya- is doing wonders for my ass. i'm trying to psyche myself back into dieting and exercising, but so far the progress has been minimal. i have cut back on drinking lately, due to the school work and busier schedule, which, by association, reduces the chances of 2am pizza feasting, but i continue to stare blankly at the huge elliptical machine in my bedroom as though i'm not sure what it is or how it got there. the thing is in my room- i clearly have no excuse whatsoever. maybe the threat of summer and an end to bulky sweaters and thigh-disguising pants will motivate me. i need to exercise, cuz god knows i don't have the willpower to go on any truly effective diet, and even if i did, my body never changes through diet alone anyway. its just too damn cold to walk outside, which is my favorite way to get moving. i should go back to yoga.
i'm thinking of quitting my band- they're getting on my nerves, and i feel like it's more of an obligation than a joy these days. though i would really miss singing. maybe i should just start looking for a more interesting and motivated band, one that actually gets gigs and rehearses, and has a pre-established leader with some drive and some management skills. i don't want to be the leader, i just want to sing. yeah, that's a good idea, i should give myself another project to go with work, grad school, marriage and trying to work out more- great idea.
sorry guys- now i'm just whining. bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh.
i should be reading for class or working on my pathfinder or my association project or one of many other assignments i am supposed to be staying ahead of. but all i really want to do right now is dive into a big bowl of pasta carbonara, a glass (okay, a bottle) of red wine and about a million episodes of Friends.
if summertime rolls, winter time blows.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Tagged
as dictated by the lovely Synge, here are five things that you probably didn't know about me. i find this exercise easier than some, simply because i don't blog as often as they do, i am at least somewhat secretive by nature, and my husband (who knows absolutely everything about me at any given moment, due to my bad habit of babbling-on senslesly to him after a long day locked away in my attic office/garrett with no one to talk to- the man has the patience of a saint, or perhaps he has just trained himself to go temporarily deaf at the appropriate times, in which case he wouldn't know these things either) doesn't read this blog:
1. i started another blog last september when i was going through a brief career mini-crisis, just before i got my current job. it was called "starting from scratch", and i don't remember the address (but it was on blogger).
2. i have a deep fear of falling down stairs, and am convinced that one day i will indeed fall down a flight or two.
3. when i was ten or twelve, i briefly had a huge crush on my third cousin, Rice, who is now a school teacher somewhere in New England. (okay synge, you may have known this one, but you didn't know that he was a teacher now, i'm sure)
4. the only foods i truly hate are radishes, liver and baby corn (and the thought of the three combined almost makes me gag just to type it).
5. i truly enjoy the album "J-Lo: Tha' Remixes", and even went out of my way to buy a new copy of it when it was released. i am not ashamed- it's a great album to work out to. i also appreciate christina aguilera's music, and think her current style phase is quite adorable. so there- i like cheesy modern pop music.
that was fun! i want to name more things (it's so cathartic):
6. i rarely wear socks without a pattern or cutesy design on them- my sock drawer is chock full of novelty socks. one of my favorite pairs has a tiny basket full of apples beneath an apple tree and the rest of the sock is strewn with fruit and leaves. i am also partial to a pair with a tiny little native american couple standing by a teepee.
7. i really enjoyed the movie "along came polly", though i am a little embaressed to admit that; i thought jennifer aniston was really likeable.
8. if i were to win the lottery today, i would immediatly go to school to get a masters in folklore and/or mythology. useless in the world of careers, but absolutely fascinating.
9. when i was little i really wanted to live in a hollowed out tree (like the boy in the book "My Side of the Mountain" ) or in a tree house (like the Disney version of Swiss Family Robinson). sometimes i still do.
10.the sounds of styrafoam being broken into pieces or shoes crunching in (dry) snow set my teeth on edge.
11. i am 1/16th cherokee indian, and when i was applying to colleges, my mom tried to see if that qualified me for a minority scholarship (it didn't- you can't be less than 1/8th).
okay, i should probably stop and get back to my library reading, though i could keep digging up obscure facts about myself all day. does that make me self-centered? probably. oh well. i can't think of anyone to tag, as everyone who reads this blog has already been tagged.
1. i started another blog last september when i was going through a brief career mini-crisis, just before i got my current job. it was called "starting from scratch", and i don't remember the address (but it was on blogger).
2. i have a deep fear of falling down stairs, and am convinced that one day i will indeed fall down a flight or two.
3. when i was ten or twelve, i briefly had a huge crush on my third cousin, Rice, who is now a school teacher somewhere in New England. (okay synge, you may have known this one, but you didn't know that he was a teacher now, i'm sure)
4. the only foods i truly hate are radishes, liver and baby corn (and the thought of the three combined almost makes me gag just to type it).
5. i truly enjoy the album "J-Lo: Tha' Remixes", and even went out of my way to buy a new copy of it when it was released. i am not ashamed- it's a great album to work out to. i also appreciate christina aguilera's music, and think her current style phase is quite adorable. so there- i like cheesy modern pop music.
that was fun! i want to name more things (it's so cathartic):
6. i rarely wear socks without a pattern or cutesy design on them- my sock drawer is chock full of novelty socks. one of my favorite pairs has a tiny basket full of apples beneath an apple tree and the rest of the sock is strewn with fruit and leaves. i am also partial to a pair with a tiny little native american couple standing by a teepee.
7. i really enjoyed the movie "along came polly", though i am a little embaressed to admit that; i thought jennifer aniston was really likeable.
8. if i were to win the lottery today, i would immediatly go to school to get a masters in folklore and/or mythology. useless in the world of careers, but absolutely fascinating.
9. when i was little i really wanted to live in a hollowed out tree (like the boy in the book "My Side of the Mountain" ) or in a tree house (like the Disney version of Swiss Family Robinson). sometimes i still do.
10.the sounds of styrafoam being broken into pieces or shoes crunching in (dry) snow set my teeth on edge.
11. i am 1/16th cherokee indian, and when i was applying to colleges, my mom tried to see if that qualified me for a minority scholarship (it didn't- you can't be less than 1/8th).
okay, i should probably stop and get back to my library reading, though i could keep digging up obscure facts about myself all day. does that make me self-centered? probably. oh well. i can't think of anyone to tag, as everyone who reads this blog has already been tagged.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
How can you not want this man as your president?
(And I do mean Obama, not Superman, just to be clear; though the man of steel would sure beat the hell out of the man of putty who's in the white house now...)Man, I hope this is true...
After reading Vixanne's blog, I too took the tarot test, and here were my results:
I hope they're right. My horoscope for the year, says that this will be a year of major self-discovery for me. I feel like that's true already; I am really trying to focus on practicing patience, evaluating my goals and priorities, and maintaining balance in my life. I think that this is already doing great things for my relationship with J- not that it wasn't great before, but I feel like now that we're both back in school and focusing on our goals for ourselves, it's making our relationship with each other even stronger. They do say (who is "they", anyway?) that you must be happy with yourself before you can truly be happy with someone else. Not to ramble on in this sappy manner for too long, but I feel very optimistic, like I have been working so hard for so long to get to a place where I don't wake up in the morning worried about everything, and afraid of everything.
Now if I can just start exercising regularly I will be complete (I keeeed, I keeeeeeeeeeed...)
You are the World
Completion, Good Reward.
The World is the final card of the Major Arcana, and as such represents saturnian energies, time, and completion.
The World card pictures a dancer in a Yoni (sometimes made of laurel leaves). The Yoni symbolizes the great Mother, the cervix through which everything is born, and also the doorway to the next life after death. It is indicative of a complete circle. Everything is finally coming together, successfully and at last. You will get that Ph.D. you've been working for years to complete, graduate at long last, marry after a long engagement, or finish that huge project. This card is not for little ends, but for big ones, important ones, ones that come with well earned cheers and acknowledgements. Your hard work, knowledge, wisdom, patience, etc, will absolutely pay-off; you've done everything right.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
I hope they're right. My horoscope for the year, says that this will be a year of major self-discovery for me. I feel like that's true already; I am really trying to focus on practicing patience, evaluating my goals and priorities, and maintaining balance in my life. I think that this is already doing great things for my relationship with J- not that it wasn't great before, but I feel like now that we're both back in school and focusing on our goals for ourselves, it's making our relationship with each other even stronger. They do say (who is "they", anyway?) that you must be happy with yourself before you can truly be happy with someone else. Not to ramble on in this sappy manner for too long, but I feel very optimistic, like I have been working so hard for so long to get to a place where I don't wake up in the morning worried about everything, and afraid of everything.
Now if I can just start exercising regularly I will be complete (I keeeed, I keeeeeeeeeeed...)
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